


The Warden and the Beast

by etaeternum



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Cheesy, Chest Hair, Cliche, F/M, From Sex to Love, Loss of Virginity, Parody, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9825785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etaeternum/pseuds/etaeternum
Summary: This is horrible smut... written for the purpose of being horrible. If you find yourself gagging at the tropey lameness of it, that's on purpose. For a bad smut contest on Facebook. I also stole some of Nate's dialogue from the game to humor myself.Nathaniel Howe and Warden-Commander Céleste Désirée Caron...





	

Head of her class amongst the Orlesian Wardens, Céleste Désirée Caron had been ordered to leave the beautiful city of Val Royeaux to aid in rebuilding the Fereldan order. The well-read woman had never so much as seen a darkspawn prior to arriving at Vigil’s Keep. Extensive reading about the vile creatures had not prepared her for their gruesome appearance and their barbaric fighting styles. Appalled at their lewd cackles and wicked grins, she brought her sword through more skulls in the last month than she thought possible when she set aside her tenure in the Orlesian courts to become a Warden.

Frigid temperatures and rural land, Ferelden was nothing like home and she found little solace with her comrades. When they were not bickering, their inappropriate humor flustered Céleste.

Crass jokes and innuendos made her cheeks red. Each time she blushed, she felt eyes upon her. The quiet rogue who had threatened to kill her made her blush burn brighter. The intense gazes confusingly conflicted his typically rude demeanor. Instead of enduring the group’s banter and the Howe’s stares, she avoided them, hiding away in her room to escape their crudeness.

Pouring rain made the night darker around Vigil’s Keep. The newly appointed and woefully inexperienced Warden-Commander lit another candle in her bedroom, setting the holder on her bedside table. She settled down to read a book, an effort to distract from the extensive stresses of this new country and her colleagues. Tucking her chestnut tresses behind her ears, she opened her novel. But a thud caught her attention, followed by another. The accented rhythm of a bedpost banging against the other side of the Warden-Commander’s wall carried through the pounding rainfall. A pleasured moan rang betwixt the thudding.

The other room belonged to the flirty mage. Céleste’s face flushed and she whimpered to herself in embarrassment, mortified by the lascivious sounds she did not wish to hear. But another moan caused a curious heat to tickle between her legs. The words in her book blurred together, her mind consumed by images of what might be occurring in the room next door. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, helpless to the salacious pictures that flooded her thoughts. Eager fingers clawing, grabbing flesh, skin slapping skin. Limbs grinding, methodic thrusting, harder and harder. Céleste chastised herself for listening, guilty of intrigue in the uncivilized Fereldan’s unconscionable behavior. But an image of the older, rugged rogue formed as the confusing fire between her legs tormented. It summoned immediate relief; a magnetic pull she didn’t understand took her hand beneath her smalls. 

Her timid fingers found the foreign territory of her pink folds. Céleste gasped. The moist, velvety skin burned hot against her chilly fingers; icy, like the cold gray of his eyes. His leathery whisper flitted through her memory, “ _ We shouldn't dally here.”  _ His general unpleasantness stirred craving, provoking a moan. 

Without her control, more thoughts of the dark-haired grump erupted as she explored her uncharted region, sensitive to every stroke of her cautious digits. The pounding on the wall escalated along with the moaning, and her hurried hand found her nub. With novice instinct she touched the spot, squirming at the sheer ecstasy bundled in the tiny location. The delicate bead throbbed for more and she ventured further, lightly rubbing against it with the tip of her finger. She squeezed her eyes shut, recalling Nathaniel’s blissfully gruff rumbles, “ _ I think I can help with that.” _ A helpless, gratified cry escaped her lips, drowned out by the passionate activities in the room next door. But the unfamiliar sound of her own lust startled her. 

_ “ _ Does this please you? _ ”  _ The recollection echoed, too real this time. Her imagination creating more accurate depictions of Nathaniel’s mysterious tone.

“No,” she whimpered to herself, pulling her hand from her smalls, ashamed of her sordid weakness. The sounds next door had quieted.

“Sorry, my lady,” the grumble reverberated from the doorway. Céleste turned her head to see her fantasy brought to life. Dark hair flowed to his shoulders, his open tunic revealing a muscled chest marked with coarse hairs. Light from the hallway shined behind him. 

Her eyes widened, shocked the object of her infatuation witnessed her perversion and worse that he was turning to leave. “Wait,” she called after him, standing from her bed to face the door, wearing only her smalls and a tunic. “Stay.”

The rogue turned to face her. Her obsidian pools gazed into his intense, silvery orbs. Nathaniel’s dark and brooding stare ignited the fire below her belly, an aching heat she couldn’t ignore. 

“Why are you here?” She questioned, her Orlesian lilt translating her heartfelt pining. Longing tears pooled in her eyes, afraid of the answer he might give.

“I heard a noise from down the hall. I was worried about you, my lady.” He explained, mumbling. It required her to listen more intently, her senses sharpening to hear him. 

His cold gaze penetrated her, stealing her heart. She caught her breath and her brow furrowed. “But,” she sniffled, “but you're so rude to me.”

Nathaniel made a crestfallen sigh, glancing to the ground as he spoke, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He met her gaze again, rattling her to the core “But I've said too much. I should go.” He turned to leave.

Her hand raised and she whispered, "No.” A tear slid down her cheek as she smiled. Swirling happy-sad feelings bubbled to the surface. Her inability to believe this dream come true made her uncertain, considering she had been the target of his gloomy attitude since he arrived at the Keep. “Nathaniel, I thought you hated me. You were going to kill me.”

Nathaniel turned to face Céleste once more. As he walked he explained, “That was before I met you. I’ve been trying to push you away, Céleste. We have every reason to hate each other.” He stood an inch away from her, staring down into her watery gaze as he referenced the odds against them: the history of conflict between their home countries. She felt his breath against her skin. His thumb brushed her tear away. Then his hand reached for her hair, but he stopped. “I won’t be good for you.”

“Nathaniel,” she crooned, peering into his heady gaze, losing herself in the eternity of his silvery pools. She instinctively tilted her head into his open hand. “If we shouldn’t be together, this wouldn’t feel so right.” 

Romance novels had not prepared her for the swirling emotions and the desperate heat between her legs. She had always skipped chapters even hinting vulgarity. She wished now she had done more research.

“I’m at my lady’s command.” His rough timbre resounded, fingers weaving in her umber locks. The other hand lifted her chin to him, positioning her lips for a gentle kiss. 

A stubbled chin pressed against her supple flesh, lips pressed. The faintest pleasure, sweet and soft applied, measuring her reaction to his affection. She whimpered, succumbing to his experienced touch. Her inhalation broke their kiss.

“Take me,” she whispered, feeling her head dizzy in the wake of his might. “Make me a woman.”

With a grunt of agreement, Nathaniel’s hand ventured from her chin to the small of her back, pulling her in closer. Céleste gasped his name, melding into the frame of the rogue. Delicate fingers laced into his black mane. She sighed in gratitude that but a moment ago she thought them rivals.

Their thirsty lips pressed again, drinking up the unlikely ecstasy of the other. As their mouths locked, eager tongues twirling in urgently slow passion, his hungry hands traveled to the collar of her shirt. In a fluid motion, he tore her blouse open, exposing her bosom covered only by a band. Steely eyes stole a long glance at her generous rack, making a grunt of approval.

She bit her lip in modest uncertainty. The swell of his throbbing picklock pressed through their clothes against her chaste trove, making her knees weak. She wobbled with a punch-drunk giggle. 

Nathaniel caught her, smiling broadly, he assured, “let me help you, my lady.” He held her light frame against his muscled chest before he swept her off her feet and carried her to her bed. After laying her down, he stepped back.

She gave a meager nod, her eyes consuming the spectacle of him removing his tunic. The complete picture of his chiseled physique exposed, a light layer of dark, manly hairs spread across his chest, narrowing at his belly and wandering into his breeches. Céleste gawked and her cheeks flushed.

Filled with disbelief, her older counterpart was shirtless and nearing her again as she lay almost bare before him. Lustful pursuits sparkled in his stare, locking with her eyes, he sat beside her prostrated form. Nimble fingers experienced from plucking fine bowstrings found the front of her breast-band. He tore it open as easy as if it were made of paper, freeing her Orlesian melons to gravity. She gasped, and again when his hand massaged a perfectly plump mound. 

An appetite that couldn’t wait brought his mouth to the pert nipple of her other beacon. He suckled on the dense tissue, flicking his tongue against the cap of her round bauble. His tactful hand traveled down her trim belly, reawakening the excited nerves she had discovered a moment ago. Exquisitely crafted circles started with his middle finger and became smaller, honing in on the target of her tiny bud, blossoming into heightened arousal. Her hips bucked to his hand, overwhelmed with the blissful sensations he aroused. She whimpered, quickly escalating as his techniques continued, peaking at a magnificent concentration, exploding pleasure in wave after wave. Céleste called his name, moaning broken syllables through surges of the hot climax spreading from her core to the tips of her toes.

When she finished, her hips lowered and her body twitched. His teeth taunted her hardened nipple, provoking another enamored moan. He traveled his full lips to kiss hers, exchanging amorous affection as he unlaced his breeches. Nathaniel stood to remove his pants and Céleste’s eyes grew wide as she watched. A few smooth motions and the leather parted; the curves of his bulge more visible in his smallclothes as he slid down his pants. Céleste gulped, nervous at the escalation of their activities the closer they came to copulation.

Nathaniel's actions didn't slow, removing his smallclothes without another thought. Céleste’s stomach flipped when she beheld his lengthy rod. It was longer than she imagined possible for the male anatomy, having read only medically necessary information in a textbook that year. 

He returned to the bed, glancing at her smallclothes as he planned his next moves. However, her bitten lip and timid gaze made him pause. 

“Are my credentials sufficient?” Nathaniel checked his shaft for adequacy before returning his attention to her. “It’s harder than it looks,” he assured.

“Please,” she murmured, glancing from his endowment to his face and back again. The ache in her hot valley yearned for his forceful exploration, but her naiveté kept her cautious. “Be gentle with me.”

“Of course, my lady. That's something I’m good at,” he growled gently and returned to the bed, removing her lace small clothes with her aid and uncovering the shaved innocence she had protected for so long. Her treasure awaited his key to unlock the joyous rapture of indecent pleasures.

Nathaniel nestled between her smooth legs, looking deep into her dark eyes. The intensity built heavily with each second she waited to feel his penetration. He kissed her as he guided himself to his destination. The archer expertly aimed his love dart with finesse; Céleste gasped “Maker!” when he entered her velvety hole, gripping his shoulders for balance at the eruption of delight. His talented hips retracted his bow, making music with another thrust. Céleste moaned loudly, encouraging him to continue. The tame beast, Nathaniel Howe, built on the momentum of his thrusts, pushing further into the exotic lands of his commander. Ecstasy created by two souls combined, unleashing their animalistic passions together. Their countries of origin, status, and age were forgotten in their climactic pursuits.

“Does… this… please… you?” He asked through groans, finding difficulty keeping his eyes open as arousal overtook him. She nodded back, her spine extending, dainty hips rolling to meet his deft pounding. 

Toe-curling euphoria enthralled the couple; their bodies melding as perfect complements to the other until, in unison, they came. 

“Nathaniel!” Céleste called in her climax, vocalizing her enraptured bliss evoked by the expert maneuvering of his enormous cock.

“Céleste,” Nathaniel groaned, his chiseled body flexing every muscle as he expelled himself inside her; every last drop of the archer’s seed released in heavenly gratification. Fully drained, he shuddered then pulled his weapon from her deflowered sheath and lay beside her.

The commander leaned her weight to rise from the bed. Her shirt and breast-band having been torn, she needed to reach dresser to find clean attire.

“Wait,” he muttered extending his hand to capture hers before she stood up. “Stay.” His gaze traveled to the spot on her bed beside him. 

“I’m naked!” Céleste exclaimed in a whisper, glancing down at her bare chest with embarrassment.

“You’re perfect.” He pulled her to him, embracing her nude frame to dissuade her from rising. “Céleste Désirée Caron, I love you.”

“I love you, Nathaniel Howe,” she snuggled into the rippling curves of his muscled chest.   


“I think I need a bit of a rest.” He relaxed his frame, closing his eyes with his love peacefully spent and cuddling against him.   


The rain had cleared and thunder vanished to a calm twilight. Nature prepared for the following day to start anew. Céleste closed her eyes, falling into a blissful slumber unlike any she had prior now that she was a woman sleeping beside her man.


End file.
